


To Build A Home

by jxckxe



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxckxe/pseuds/jxckxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion has a hard time coping with Nezumi's departure. Despite the days and the months and the years that continue to pass him by, he waits patiently for Nezumi to keep his promise, and to return to his side. Post-Anime/Novel. Rating WILL go up as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Separation

 

_"The sky looks pissed, the wind talks back  
My bones are shifting in my skin,  
 **And you, my love, are gone."**_

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Shion's throat felt dry as he opened the door to a room that once held his entire life. The sun was setting over the crumbling walls of No.6, causing orange rays of light to filter in through his blinds and trail all over his desk, floor, and bed. It was a sight to behold; one filled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow and the end of an emotionally taxing day… Yet, despite all of his, in his current emotional state, Shion couldn't consider either lines of thought. His fingers could barely unlatch themselves from the brass knob of his door, bare feet still teetering on the seams of carpet that separated the stairway from his bedroom, from distraction to the most painful reality Shion had ever come to know.

Nezumi was gone. He had left, he had vanished into the horizon line with that black leather jacket and those old, worn boots, never once stopping to look back.

As he finally forced himself to glance around the room he slept in for four years, his eyes saw nothing that appealed to him. There were no classic works of literature, no poems, no forms of expression that he had become so accustomed to within the span of a few months. It was disappointing, and even worse than that, disheartening. There would be nothing in this tiny space that would offer him any support in the long hours between sunset and sunrise, not here in Lost Town, anyway. The only thing...— the only _person,_ rather _—_ that could make everything better was gone, he had left of his own free will, and despite the furious kiss of promise that was placed on his lips only a few hours ago, Shion knew better than to hope for a quick return.

The last time Nezumi had walked out of his life, he had been gone for four years.

Just that thought alone was enough to leave his heart throbbing in his throat, threatening to spill out in the form of heavy sobs. Shion thought swallowing would help push down the lump that had settled there, but doing so only made the problem worse, forcing the back of his eyes to sting for the seventh time in the same day. In the far corners of his mind, Shion wondered if this was the cruel reality he would be faced with day after day for the rest of his life. Would he be an old man by the time Nezumi returned? Would he spend the rest of his life waiting for a day that would never come? He couldn't bear the thought; it was much too painful right now, while standing in his old home, in his old room, feeling more exposed than he ever had before.

Slowly but surely, Shion made his way through the doorframe, bare feet brushing against thick bristles of carpet. Every step felt like it spanned for miles, every movement so much slower than he intended it to be. The door closed behind him, blocking out the feigned smiles he had presented his mother with, as well as the looks from strangers who had no idea what to do next, or what was in store for No. 6. Every responsibility and priority that Shion would soon be faced with was put on the backburner, making room for the heavy heart that felt like it was crumbling into a million pieces in his chest.

Thin fingers pulled the blinds shut, blocking the warm rays of sunlight from intruding into his room any longer. He then sat on the edge of his bed, eyes brimming with tears once more as he thought about Nezumi. Where would he go now? Would he return to his old home in West Block before leaving it all behind? What about his books? What about all of the items that were left underground, the things that would forever be embedded into Shion's mind? That old worn piano, the pot that cooked soup for them countless times, those slippers Nezumi wore while walking around… were they destroyed in the Manhunt, never to be found again? Shion suddenly felt the urge to go back and see if Nezumi was there. If he was, he could finally tell him all of the things he wanted to say before he walked away. There were so many words left unsaid, words that were now tossing and turning in Shion's heart, mocking him. ' _Maybe if you told him how you really felt, he would've stayed,'_ Shion's inner voice screamed, making the tears finally roll down his cheeks.

Shion knew better, though. He knew that seeing Nezumi now would only push him further away. He wasn't blind to the fact that Nezumi was a wanderer, and that he needed time alone to figure himself out. After all, it was just as he said: there was nothing keeping him in West Block anymore, no goals of achieving vengeance, no job in the theater that would pay the bills. There was no family to return to, no home left for him. Everything had been destroyed, including No. 6, the dystopia Nezumi despised the most. Shion understood that he needed time away from the place that had taken everything from him… but it still didn't make things any easier for the white haired boy, the one who was left with nothing but a memory and a promise that one day, they would be reunited.

The sun was fading quickly now, no longer leaving his room glowing in colors that reminded Shion of the flames that had marred Nezumi's back. The darkness was finally beginning to engulf him, blurring the lines of the furniture pressed up against the walls of his room. He slowly began to lie down, and soon enough, tousled white locks were sprawled out in a messy fashion against a dark blue pillow. He closed his eyes as he pulled the blankets up around his shaking form, finally succumbing to the pain of knowing that Nezumi was gone for what could potentially be a very long period of time. There would be no moments shared between them anymore; no fingers intertwining like they had when they were young, no sassy comments meant to tease Shion without any mercy, no more stormy grey eyes that revealed an entire world Shion desperately longed to be a part of. All Shion was left with now were memories, memories of their time in West Block, when food was scarce and all they had was one another… and when that was all they ever needed.

Shion sniffed in and rubbed at his face, feeling more and more pathetic as the minutes dragged on. Was this how it was going to be, now? A life without Nezumi was suddenly a life that wasn't worth living. The raven haired boy had taught him so much in the span of a few months; he taught him how to feel, how to be angry and frustrated and upset, and what it felt like to be hungry, and to suffer, and to survive… but most importantly, Nezumi had taught Shion that there was so much more to the world than indifference and a mundane routine, than pledging allegiance to a civilization that held so many secrets and lies that it could barely stand on its own without crushing innocent lives along the way. Nezumi had indirectly revealed Shion's true colors, exposing the white haired boy to a life he never would have had if he hadn't opened his window one fateful night.

But more than any of this, Shion realized as he buried his face into his pillow and began to sob violently, Nezumi had taught Shion what it was like to love another human being. To be completely and irrevocably attached to another individual, to want to protect them both emotionally and physically, even at the expense of his own life. And even though the knowledge that the person he had fallen in love with was gone, he knew it was better to have experienced happiness by Nezumi's side, than to have never known him at all.

All he could hope for now, as the sun finally faded away once and for all, was that Nezumi would keep his promise… that they would reunite, and start new someday.

' _I'll be waiting, Nezumi,'_ Shion thought to himself as his tears finally began to slow down. _'No matter how long it takes, I'll be waiting.'_

_  
_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- __

_  
_

Heavy footsteps marked the path leading to his imminent salvation. Within the orange and red beams of the setting sun, a super-fiber cloak draped around Nezumi's form swayed in the warm breeze. It covered his body completely, protecting him from the debris that trailed from a world that had once stolen everything from him. As people from West Block approached the collapsing city, Nezumi continued to walk away, slowly yet swiftly approaching a new life, a new world that perhaps held everything he was looking for. He wasn't sure what he wanted exactly, nor was he prepared for what was in store for him, but he knew it was better than staying in the wretched city that had turned him into the bitter, hateful individual that he had become.

' _He deserves better than that,'_ Nezumi thought idly to himself as the soles of his boots came in contact with the pavement below. He let his cloak sway as he walked, its hood keeping strands of black hair from falling into his face as he approached the horizon line. _'I can't give him what he wants.'_

It was a truth that Nezumi believed with every fiber of his being. Shion was the sunlight after a devastating storm, he was the miracle that had saved the raven-haired boy countless times, and Nezumi was the typhoon that destroyed so much beauty within its very path. He was the storm, the hurricane of emotions and contradictions that threatened to hunt down and tarnish any beautiful aspect of life or love. And Shion deserved better.

As Nezumi continued to walk on and on and away from all that he had previously known, he did not bother to think of the material items he was leaving behind. The novels that he had read and the poetry he had memorized along the way would forever be embedded into his mind, no longer needing to be physically held in order to retain its importance in his life. The only thing that Nezumi could think of as the sun continued to set in front of him was the person he was leaving behind. Strands of white hair would no longer cloud his vision as he opened his eyes in the morning, and he would no longer have the pleasure of curiously running the pad of his thumb along a particular red scar.

Despite the pain that was currently clawing at his heart, Nezumi knew he had made the right decision. He would not let his resolve waver, not now, not after finally gaining the courage to leave. He knew what he needed to do and it consisted of running, of figuring himself out. It was better this way, to discover everything he needed to learn on his own, without Shion by his side. He was so utterly terrified of the emotions Shion was capable of bringing out in him, that he knew he wasn't ready for a life beside him. Not now, anyway. There was so much he needed to figure out, so many things he needed to see and experience and _understand_ before he could come back. He could only hope that Shion truly understood as he watched him leave, and that he wouldn't be the stubborn airhead Nezumi often times made him out to be. He hoped that Shion would respect the fact that he needed time away in order to prepare himself emotionally for what was to come.

A few years away was nothing if Nezumi was to come back offering his entire life, his heart and his body and his _soul,_ and all of his remaining years to the boy who had walked back into a collapsing No. 6, only to fix it up for the better. Nezumi needed to do this in order to become stronger… in order to feel good enough. And Shion needed to be in No. 6, he needed to follow through with the restoration of a world that maybe, _just maybe,_ actually deserved a second chance.

And so, as Nezumi stuffed his hands into his pockets, he closed his eyes and forced himself to continue on. _'I'll come back, Shion,'_ Nezumi thought to himself as the sky turned dark. _'I promise.'_


	2. Crumbling Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the scarlet eyes of a particular white haired boy, the days marking Nezumi’s departure had turned into weeks, and soon enough into months. They had seemingly bled together, drops of red spilling from a wound that was still struggling to heal itself. Where the blood dripped from the needle and thread working desperately to speed up the long recovery process, and where specks of red and salty tears lay on familiar hardwood floors… where a wound was left gaping by a boy who was not yet able to open himself up to love, there was Shion, picking himself up each and every morning only to struggle to find the strength to get through the day.

 

❝ There is a house built out of stone  
   Wooden floors, walls and window sills  
   Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust  
   This is a place where I don't feel alone  
   This is a place where I feel at home

   'Cause, I built a home, for you, for me  
   Until it disappeared from me, from you,  
   And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust... ❞

\----------------------------

Through the scarlet eyes of a particular white haired boy, the days marking Nezumi’s departure had turned into weeks, and soon enough into months. They had seemingly bled together, drops of red spilling from a wound that was still struggling to heal itself. Where the blood dripped from the needle and thread working desperately to speed up the long recovery process, and where specks of red and salty tears lay on familiar hardwood floors…. where a wound was left gaping by a boy who was not yet able to open himself up to love, there was Shion, picking himself up each and every morning only to struggle to find the strength to get through the day.

Whenever he felt his weakest, a voice would creep into the back of his head, mocking him, telling him to stop crying, that he needed to be stronger. It was a familiar sound that filled his mind, and not only did it speak to him in his most vulnerable moments, it also cradled his heart and squeezed it much too often for his liking. But, despite all of the pain such a voice provided him with, it also gave him hope that one day they would be reunited. That Nezumi would keep his promise.

It was _that_ voice in the back of his mind that kept him moving. 

As the months continued on, no longer was Shion paralyzed by his desperation to see those silver eyes again, or to understand why he had left in the first place. He had grown accustomed to the feeling, no longer allowing himself to cry over it. Nezumi was gone, and there was nothing Shion could do to change this fact. He had to accept it; he had to keep going on with his life… otherwise, the chance of fixing the city that had fallen apart right before his very eyes would be completely put to waste. He had to carry through with his responsibilities, if not for himself, then for a boy who deserved back the family and the life that had been stolen from him.

Even if Shion couldn’t give Nezumi back his home, or his mother and father, he would stop at nothing to turn No.6 into a place that would never harm another innocent life. He would fix the city he resided in the best that he could, no matter how long it took.

The day had started just like any other. An alarm clock sounded in the distance, hazy in the midst of his dreams, yet somehow able to pull the white haired boy out of his reverie. Crimson eyes opened slowly and blinked several times before his hand reached over to mute the annoying sound coming from his desk. Thin fingers bumped into random objects in pursuit of the noise, and once he stumbled upon the button on top of the clock, he pushed it in quickly, silencing it within a split second. He sighed before sleepily rubbing his face, pushing white locks of hair out of the way as he begrudgingly sat up. Pale legs were then swung over the edge of his bed, and bare feet made contact with the cool floor below.

Looking around his room, Shion saw nothing of interest. It still felt the way it had the first night he returned to it; hollow, foreign, and entirely too empty. He continued to sit there for a few minutes, waking himself up slowly while avoiding any and all thoughts that would make him want to curl himself back up in his bed. Once the idea of snoozing was no longer appealing, Shion stood up sluggishly, not bothering to put on his slippers as he padded over to the window.

Upon opening the blinds, trails of light marked his body, crisscrossing the path of a particular red scar. Shion looked out across the city through tired, heavy lidded eyes, still utterly exhausted from the work he had done the night before. Piles of paperwork were no stranger to him now; they stacked up easily on his desk, both at home and at his office, waiting to be read and signed and passed on for other officials to read. He was the one they all looked to for answers, the one that the residents of No.6 trusted to reveal the truth and to help them start over. It was a stressful job, but it put Shion’s genius mind to good use, along with that hopeful, _big_ heart that continued to search for third options, for ways around any and all obstacles that obstructed his path. Such ways of thinking were valuable to the restoration of No.6, and despite the long afternoons in committee meetings and the nights spent working in the office after everyone was already fast asleep, Shion knew that it was worth it.

If anything, Shion was happy that there was some sort of distraction in his life to pull him out of his thoughts. The less time he spent focusing on Nezumi, the better. Despite the raven-haired boy always lingering in the back of his mind, Shion worked hard to keep him away from his main area of focus, knowing that such thoughts would only cause him pain.

And so, as Shion quickly dressed and readied himself for the long day ahead, he kissed his mother on the cheek and sped out the door, not once thinking that his day would take a turn for the worst within a matter of a few hours.

\-------------------------------------

The time had already approached midday before Shion had even realized. He had grown so absorbed in a new proposition that had fallen into his lap that he hadn’t even bothered to look up at the clock in his office. 48 pages bound together in the form of a fancy and inviting proposal left his head spinning. Facts and ideas from a developer that had worked in No.5 were written in fine print, hoping to intrigue the white haired boy and get him to sign on to spending a massive amount of money to rebuild the structures that had collapsed on Holy Day. Had 4 hours really passed _that_ quickly? Shion’s fingers were still wrapped around a ceramic mug filled with black coffee, now cold in his embrace. The temperature didn’t distract him all too much, however, as he took a rather large gulp of the strong dark liquid and forced it down. 

Before he could even consider the idea of signing his name as a form of approval on the last page, a co-worker appeared at his door, knocking insistently and bouncing around on her feet as she attempted to make eye contact with him through the tiny glass panel in the door. Shion looked over at her with wide eyes, obviously startled by the sudden noise. It was only after a few moments of staring dazedly at the door that he figured out who it was.

An intern from No.3 named Aya, with her dark brown hair and hazel eyes, smiled back at him. He didn’t know all too much about her, seeing as she was a new addition to the office, but her smile was friendly, and the sight alone calmed his frazzled nerves.

In the back of his mind, an image of another friend appeared, only this one was deceased.

“Come in!” he spoke loudly, hoping his voice would reach her through the wooden door. He straightened himself out a bit as she entered, pushing up his reading glasses with his forefinger as he continued to stare at her.

“Shion-san, the committee is waiting for you in the conference room,” she spoke eagerly. She wrung her hands together as she spoke, still obviously nervous by the amount of responsibility that had been thrust her way. Being so new to a civilization that needed all the help it could get had to be both exhilarating and nerve-wracking for an outsider, especially someone so young. Shion quickly looked up at the clock above his door, and upon realizing just how late he was for the meeting, he stood up and immediately began collecting his things. His glasses were chucked into his drawer and the pile of paper began to rebuild itself once again. “Ah, I can’t believe I’m so late! Sorry Aya-san, could you tell them I’ll be right in?”

Aya nodded furiously, but before she closed the door, she couldn’t help but stare at the white tresses of hair before her, and the unnaturally bright red scar that presented itself on Shion’s face and neck.

\-------------------------------------

Several hours after the meeting had ended, Shion was in a state of panic. He nervously bit on his lip as he found himself in the seat behind the driver of a large coach bus, the vehicle speeding its way over to the decrepit West Block.

The restoration committee had deemed it necessary that they explore the surrounding areas of No.6, helping those who were in dire need as well as offering them a safe place to stay while the city continued to repair itself. It was the least that they could do, especially after No.6 had conducted the Manhunt, cleaning out everything that was deemed ‘dirty’ or invaluable to the previous city. As impressed as Shion was that the committee had come up with such an idea without his constant pleading and nagging, he was still a bit anguished by the ride in.

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to go and help… it was in his very nature to extend a helping hand, to throw open a window and let someone in need into his home… but when all was said and done, Shion wasn’t sure he was ready to go back just yet. Not now, not after finally moving past everything that had happened.

Each and every glance out the window sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of all of the memories he had blocked out in order to cope with Nezumi’s departure. His hands were folded in his lap as he stared out at the ruins of a city he had once sought out shelter in, remnants of the marketplace still burned into his mind as they drove down the road.

Within each side street, Shion saw moments frozen in time; down _that_ alleyway, Nezumi had saved him from a handsy prostitute. On the right side of that road, they had sprinted in an attempt to get away from a group of large, angry men. Down _that_ street, Shion had bought vegetables for Nezumi’s Macbeth soup, only to realize he had been talked into buying entirely too many.

Some memories brought a smile to his face… and yet, some reminded him of everything that he had lost.

Down the corridors and alleyways and the beaten down path of a city in ruins, Shion and the rest of the Restoration Committee trekked, searching for anyone still living. They would tell the residents the truth, and they would welcome them to a civilization rebuilding itself with the promise that they could choose if they wanted to return or not. If they did, they would be welcomed back with open arms, given a seat on a bus that would bring them to a safe haven. If they chose to stay, they would be treated for any injuries regardless, and given clean clothes and food.

In the back of his mind, Shion wondered if Nezumi would be proud, or if he would scoff at him and call him a clueless idiot.

\-------------------------------------

It was almost nightfall now, and despite the buses preparing to embark on their journey back to No.6, Shion decided that he would walk. The air would certainly do him good, in any case.

The main bus, as well as the one trailing behind it, carried away the rest of the committee as well as about eighty people who wanted to journey back with them. Shion stood far back in the distance, waving them off as the vehicles soon faded away.

There was only one place Shion wanted to go right now, and he wanted to go there alone.

The walk over to the underground home Shion had once loved was agonizing, filled with so many doubts and fears. What if the entire place was in shambles? What if there was nothing left to it, nothing left to hold onto? Or, worse yet… what if Nezumi was still dwelling there? Would Shion be interrupting his much-needed time away? Was this the right choice, coming back to the home he had once shared with Nezumi? Shion wanted to silence the voices in his head so badly, yet there they remained, haunting him with each and every step.

The door was unlocked when he arrived in front of it. Shaky fingers gripped the handle, hesitating slightly before taking the risk of opening the door. It was pitch black as he stared into the small space, crimson eyes inspecting it through the doorway before taking a step in. The first thing Shion did upon entering was to search for a lantern. The first one he found had been broken, cracked and laying on its side in the middle of the floor. The second one, however, was perfectly adequate, and once it was lit, Shion could vaguely make out the couch, table, and bed of the small dwelling.

The table was now cracked in half; the items that had once been resting on it had fallen into the crack splitting the table in two. Some books had fallen apart, presumably during the tremors caused by the Manhunt. The Happy Prince, a book Shion remembered from his childhood, lay sprawled out on the floor with its cover detached. Shion crouched down, trailing his fingers over the golden letters of the title, brushing away the dust that had collected. He swallowed hard and forced himself to smile, recalling the memory of a boy reciting lines from the novel in an attempt to make fun of him. What had once annoyed Shion now amused him, and more than anything, Shion wished he could have the opportunity to hear such teasing words once more.

It was then that Shion realized that Nezumi wasn’t here, and that he hadn’t even come back for his things. Had he wanted to leave _that_ badly? Shion’s expression was pained as he looked over to the bookshelves housing so many amazing novels and works of literature. These were Nezumi’s books, left behind… left to collect dust, or to be destroyed. It was in that moment, crouched down on the floor of his crumbling paradise, that Shion decided he would bring them home. He would save them, for when Nezumi came back…  he had to. ‘ _So you have another reason to return to me.’_

The walk back to the home he shared with his mother seemed longer than ever before, with an enormous pile of books filling up his arms.

\-------------------------------------

Shion had walked up the stairs as quietly as he could, stumbling a bit as he fumbled around with the novels weighing down his arms. It was after midnight, and Shion knew that his mother would be up in a few hours to begin baking for the next series of loyal customers. His heart was heavy in his chest as he approached his room, and within a few long moments, the books were left to rest on his desk, falling out of his clutches with a few loud thuds.

Shion would need to make many trips back to West Block in order to obtain all of the books in that massive collection. The realization hit him hard as he sat down in his bed, looking out the window towards the place in which he had just come from. Suddenly, it was as if everything came crashing down inside of him all at once. The weight of the world felt heavy as it abruptly landed on his shoulders, weighing him down as his body began to shake. It had taken all of the strength he had left to make it through the day, and now here, in his lonely room, Shion finally began to break. His eyes welled up with tears for the first time in months as he stared over at the tattered books on his desk, wondering if they would be all he had left to tie himself to Nezumi. At least if he never came back, _if nothing else_ , he would have William Shakespeare, and Edgar Allen Poe, and Oscar Wilde to keep the memory of Nezumi intact.

Shion sniffed in as his tears rolled down his cheeks. They blurred his vision, leaving him with nothing but his pain and loneliness in that dark room void of everything he considered beautiful.

“…Shion?”

A familiar voice sounded hesitant and quiet as it came from behind his door. Shion’s eyes widened as he heard the soft whisper, and quickly he began to wipe at his face, trying desperately to rid himself of any remnants of his tears. “I-I’m sorry, Mom… I d-didn’t mean to wake you..” Shion called out in his shaky voice. He literally began to hold himself together as if he was falling apart at the seams, his arms winding tightly around himself as light began to peek in from the crack of the door.

Karan’s eyes were soft and gentle as they looked over at her son’s weakened form, strained from all of the emotions he had been hiding from her. “Oh, Shion…,” she whispered as she closed the door behind her. Within a matter of seconds she was sitting beside him on his bed, her arms wrapped tightly around him as he cried.

“I…—“ Shion stopped himself from speaking as her arms were somehow able to contain his very being. If anything, the sudden embrace made his tears fall faster, threatening to spill out in the form of heavy sobs as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry, I’m…r-really sorry, Mom,” Shion murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

Karan could feel his hot tears as they burned her skin, leaving her heart beating rapidly. “What on earth do you have to apologize for?” She asked quietly as her fingers began to thread themselves through his hair. She had a feeling that a moment such as this would occur eventually. Despite Shion trying desperately to hide all of his pain, she knew there was more to what had happened while he had been living in West Block than she was never made aware of. Perhaps it was her motherly instinct, or maybe it was the fact that she knew her son inside and out… but the way he continued to fake smiles around her, and to pretend everything was okay… it made her heart ache.

Karan could recall each and every morning she spent watching him as he left for work, with that feigned sense of happiness as he kissed her cheek and wished her a wonderful day. But, deep down, she knew she would have to wait until he opened up out of his own free will. Forcing anything on her son who had just been through hell and back would’ve been wrong, and she was certainly patient enough to wait for Shion to speak of the things that were bothering him.

But, as Shion found himself unable to even answer the question she was asking him, he decided to just spill out whatever was going on in his heart and mind. “I just… I miss him so much I can hardly stand it sometimes,” Shion murmured, sniffling in a bit. Embarrassment mixed in with heartache as he took a much needed breath, his eyes opening as he continued to cling to her. “We went to West Block today, to search for survivors…and…e-everywhere I went, it was like I could feel his stare. I went back…—,” Shion’s voice cracked at this, and it took him a moment to gather himself before he could speak again. His voice was then softer, nearly a whisper as he continued. “I went back to where we lived… and all of his books were there…I couldn’t just leave them, Mom, I had to bring them with me… in case he ever returns, they need to be here with me.”

 _‘Finally,’_ Karan thought to herself. She smiled at Shion’s confession, his words laced with emotions he wasn’t even aware he was revealing. Finally, Karan knew for certain what she had believed all along. Nezumi, the boy that had saved her son… the boy that had provided her with an outlet to talk to Shion, despite the distance between them…. He meant more to her son than he had ever admitted to her out loud.

Gentle fingers raked through Shion’s white locks as he spoke, and she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head before daring to speak. “Shion, it’s going to be okay,” she whispered as her hold on him tightened. “He’s going to come back, you just need to give him time.”

“How do you know that?” Shion mumbled, his eyes focused on the floor.

“Because I saw it in his eyes.”

At that, Shion froze. He finally pulled away, only slightly… just far enough so that he could meet his mother’s warm gaze.

And in her smile, and the gentle lines of her face… Shion found the hope he needed to continue on.

“I’ll help you next time,” Karan smiled as she tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Help me..?”

“Help you bring back the books, silly!”

Shion couldn’t help but smile genuinely at that, a soft chuckle making its way out of his mouth for the first time since Nezumi had left.

\-------------------------------------

Water splashed over the dock as long, thin legs dangled over the wooden ledge. Nezumi’s feet felt the gentle waves of the water as the surrounding winds blew it in towards the coast. As seagulls called attention to the human intruding on their territory, Nezumi continued to watch the water spill in towards him, his pants rolled up and his toes immersed in the cool liquid. It felt good on his worn down feet, tired from all of the travelling he had done in a short amount of time.

Silver eyes reflected back up at him as he stared down into the water, the moon lighting up his world and illuminating even the darkest corners of his mind. Somewhere, within that cold heart Nezumi had grown accustomed to, warmth began to reside, leaving an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

 _‘So this is what it’s like to miss someone, huh?’_ Nezumi thought to himself as he continued to stare down at his reflection. For so long, he had trained himself to let go of the past, for dwelling on such torment would only make his chances of surviving even slimmer. But now…

…As the graceful movements of the water ceased to exist, Nezumi threw a pebble into his reflection, revealing ripples that rivaled the currents in his heart and mind. It was easier to watch the waves crash into one another, however small they were, than to live in the deafening peace and quiet that the nights in No.5 provided him with.

In the back of his mind, a poem began to ring true. He felt like jumping up to his feet and screaming it, letting his soaking wet feet touch the cool wood of the dock, letting the sound emanate through the trees and the sand and the civilization he had now grown accustomed to. Yet the words came out quietly, hesitantly… as if he was saying something to someone he had never been able to say before, much less spend time thinking about.

_“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)  
_ _I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go, my dear;  
_ _and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)_

_I fear…  
_ _no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet ) I want  
_ _no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
_ **_and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
_ ** **_and whatever a sun will always sing is you_ **

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
_ _(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
_ _and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
_ _higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
_ _and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
_ _I carry your heart **(I carry it in my heart)** "  
_

And, with that, the rat finally began to understand and accept the hurricane of emotions rampaging through his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I just want to thank Elanra for supporting me on this long and agonizing journey. There's a lot of pain within both Nezumi and Shion, but eventually all roads lead them back to one another. : ) Thanks for reading!


	3. Unwavering Hope.

 

❝ They say that things just cannot grow beneath the  
   winter snow, or so I have been told. They say we're buried  
   far, just like a distant star, I simply cannot hold.

   This is my winter song, December never felt so wrong,  
   'Cause you're not where you belong... **Inside my arms.** ❞

\----------------------------

Summer had gracefully spread its wings over the skies of a new, ripening version of No.6. The sun’s light had showcased a civilization once specializing in deceit with well-deserved warmth, its rays illuminating new buildings and structures and young, laughing faces. Where there had once been hundreds of thousands of citizens who strived to make No.6 a place to once again feel proud of, there were now millions, the numbers increasing with each and every passing hour. 

A new sense of life and purpose were now embraced and accepted by its people. This sense of life was only shown through the eyes of those who knew what it was like to hold a worn book in their hands, or to watch their favorite play being performed on a magnificent stage, or to indulge in the expression and creativity of works of art that had once been banned from No.6. And, if that overwhelming need to live and to experience life to its fullest wasn’t a direct result of viewing a painting or reading a famous novel, it was a result of almost being put to rest by a world that had once kept hidden so many thousands of secrets from its people. 

Within the city that a certain raven-haired individual had once described as being filled with humans who blindly followed without bothering to ask any questions, there happened to be people much like Shion; there were fighters, there were people who had been shown the cruel reality of the world they were a part of, that had fought back against the system and had lived to tell the tale or, better yet, write about it. That will and utter  _need_  to survive and to keep fighting was unmistakable even now as Shion rode his bicycle to his place of work. It was found in the windows of the bookstores, and within the words typed out on pages of new books. Life was now found all over a city once encased in such monotonous routine.  

Shion was undeniably proud of how No.6 was shaping up to be, and with each and every smile he saw curl upon the lips of the people passing him by, he knew he was doing something right. He had worked day in and day out to bring the arts back into No.6, spending much of his time writing grant proposals and begging for funding. Shion had made bringing back the arts his most precious goal within the reconstruction of this new, powerful civilization. He strongly wished that people could experience how wonderful literature and art and music could be, from both the comfort of their own homes to the large theater he had had constructed in the middle of the city. Such forms of expression had once been so foreign to him, and ever since he picked up that first book in Nezumi’s tiny little home, Shion knew that the world deserved to know about such magnificent treasures. Perhaps the words of Mark Twain, or Jane Austen, or Oscar Wilde would help to inspire a new generation of No.6 inhabitants.

Just as quickly as the heat of summer had brought about such brilliant change, autumn had begun to make its presence known. Heat waves were stifled with cool breezes, and before Shion was even able to concentrate on actually  _breathing_ , winter had rushed in, claiming his city with massive snowstorms that decorated No.6 with glistening white and the brightness of warm-colored mittens and scarves. Hot chocolate once set out for two remained in only one steaming mug now as Shion looked out his office window.

It was snowing. The sky this morning was a shade of grey that Shion was all too familiar with. Although there was no storm threatening to spill out from the heavens above, the memories of snowball fights and swings and a dirty, rundown playground still filled his mind.  

What had once made Shion burst out into tears now made the white-haired boy smile. 

It had been three years. Three insanely long years filled with business proposals and things Shion was never taught in any school. He had seen many different aspects of life; he had seen the good in people, the side of humanity that he wanted more than anything to accept and to cherish. He had also seen the bad, the sneaky and conniving side that threatened to bring No.6 back down to its knees. But, despite all of the obstacles that had blocked his path — both emotionally and physically, that is —, he was still able to bring about constructive, wonderful change to No.6.

At 19 years old, Shion had accomplished so much. As he continued to look out the window, he knew that he was no longer the boy he had once been, a boy so naïve of the world that surrounded him. No, Shion was certainly not a young boy anymore… he had grown up. Wavy white strands of hair had grown longer, just centimeters away from touching his shoulders. His body had matured, shoulders much stronger than they ever had been before. Perhaps it was from the weight of the world that he carried upon them, or perhaps it was because of all of the burdens and responsibilities he now held in order to keep No.6 flourishing… whatever it was, the years had helped to turn him into a man that his mother could be proud of.

From the comfort of his office, Shion let out a heavy sigh. His mug of hot chocolate was once again placed down upon his desk, only so that he could rub at his tired, sleep-deprived eyes. _‘At least it’s Friday,’_  Shion thought to himself as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. Before he could spend any more time contemplating falling asleep at his desk, Shion’s scarlet-colored eyes snapped open. “AHHHH! It’s  _ **FRIDAY!**_ ” Shion nearly yelled as the realization hit him. His kneecaps hit into the underside of his desk as he abruptly stood up, and with a painful yelp, Shion sat back down and rubbed at them, his lips twisting into a pout. 

Today wasn’t just any Friday…it was last day he and his mother would journey into West Block to gather the remaining two boxes of Nezumi’s books. Today was  _that_  Friday, the most important part of his week. After today, Shion would no longer have a reason to step foot into West Block, much less the old home he once shared with Nezumi.

Once he was able to gather his thoughts and leave the confines of his office without hurting himself, Shion made his way down several flights of stairs and into the lobby of his office building. He waved his goodbyes to the security officers before he pushed open the main doors. Shion then wrapped his thick wool scarf around his neck before adjusting his messenger bag, and soon enough, the white-haired man was speeding down the side of the road on his bicycle, making his way home.

 

\----------------------------

 

“Well, that does it!” Karan chimed in gleefully, adjusting the weight of the cardboard box in her arms as she continued to stand in the doorway. “After more than ten trips back and forth, we’ve finally reached the end!” Karan nudged her son with her elbow, seeing as her hands were occupied. Bright red eyes made contact with hazel ones as he turned to her and smiled, although the expression he wore on his face was quite strained. 

“Who knew that a person could collect so many books! And to think, he must have brought all of these here all by himself… I wonder how long it took him?”  

“Even if he brought a few here every night, I’d imagine it took him over a year to collect all of these,” Shion replied as he broke away from his mother’s gaze. Instead, his eyes drifted over to the now empty bookshelves.

An image of a young Nezumi sprinting with stolen books filling up the span of his arms appeared in the back of Shion’s mind, forcing a pained smile to mark his lips. His fingers tightened their grip on the sides of his box as he took a step towards the door, knowing that he had to get going. He had spent much too long in Nezumi’s home already… and being here any longer than necessary would only rip open the wound that had taken so long to close.

_‘Three years, Nezumi… Why haven’t you come back yet...?’_

Shion shook his head and swallowed hard as he forced the thoughts to leave his mind. No, this certainly wouldn’t do… he would not break down here… he would prove to Nezumi just how strong he was, even if he wasn’t here to witness his growth.

“Ready to go, Shion?” Karan asked, looking over at him with gentle, loving eyes. Shion took a deep breath and nodded his head, following her lead as they began to exit the tiny home. 

Shion whispered a low goodbye as he closed the door behind him, knowing deep down in his heart that he was saying goodbye to more than just an empty home. His farewell did not go unheard, however, as a frown marred Karan’s face.

It was only ten minutes into their journey back home that a familiar face came running up behind them, calling out Shion’s name insistently before stopping to regain his breath. The flask in Rikiga’s hand was shoved into the inner pocket of his jacket as he breathed heavily, immediately regretting the decision to sprint after both the white-haired man and his unknown companion.

Both Shion and his mother turned around to face the yelling individual.

“Shion?! Hey, wait!! You didn’t think you’d…. b-be able to leave West Block without…. without paying me a visit first, did you?!” Rikiga spoke through labored breaths, his hands placed on his knees in an attempt to support his upper body. “Man, I’m  _really_  out of shape,” Rikiga murmured bitterly to himself. 

Upon realizing whom Shion’s companion was, Rikiga forced himself to stand up straight, his cheeks immediately turning a rosy shade of pink. “Oh…K-Karan!” Rikiga stuttered, his overall embarrassment evident in the sound of his voice. “I wasn’t… expecting to see you! Actually, I wasn’t expecting to see either of you… It’s still dangerous here, you know!”

Shion laughed and put his box down beside his feet. In a quick motion, Shion reached over to hug the flustered man before him. “It’s good to see you too, Rikiga,” Shion smiled, patting Rikiga’s back before pulling away. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately; the last few times you’ve been in the city, I’ve either been in meetings or have been stuck working late. But I’m glad my mother has been keeping you company!”

Within a matter of seconds, Shion could feel his insides clench up, internally flinching at the words he had just spoken aloud. Words scribbled onto a letter that had been sent his way a week ago came to mind almost immediately.  _“Old man Rikiga's been in a good mood lately, since he can go back and forth to where you are since there's no more wall. Life can catch you by surprise, so be careful. It'd be a real tragedy if that old geezer became your stepfather.”_

“Yes, you’re right. Karan’s always too good to me. I could never go hungry with her filling my plate with her cravats and muffins!” Rikiga smiled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

Rikiga had been to No.6 several times to visit Shion and his mother since the fall of the walls separating No.6 from West Block. And, despite being a bit disappointed each and every time he arrived in Rose Town (which had formally been known as ‘Lost Town’,) only to find Shion was too busy to come and see him, he couldn’t say he was all too upset that he got to spend some quality time with Shion’s mother. No, he  _definitely_  wasn’t complaining about that…  

His cheeks were still tinged a subtle red, and despite the idea of Rikiga becoming his stepfather being utterly terrifying, Shion couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Hey… how about you guys come back for lunch? I don’t have anything going on right now, and besides, you came all of this way! You both must be starving!” Rikiga’s eyes lit up as he spoke, already running through a list of places he could take them. Impressing Karan was at the top of his list of priorities, after all.

“A-Ah, that sounds absolutely wonderful, Rikiga-san,” Karan smiled as she held on tighter to her box of books. “But I really should head back to the bakery. The customers can’t ring themselves out, after all!”

 _Karan…. Always so thoughtful,_  Rikiga thought to himself, despite his obvious sulking. He felt like he could cry out of both sadness and utter admiration for the woman before him. “I’ll see you at home?” Karan questioned, her gaze directing back over to Shion.

“Oh… yes! Please be safe getting back, okay? You don’t have to carry that box if it’s heavy, mom, I can just make another tri—“

“No, don’t be silly! I’m a strong woman, I can handle it!” Karan beamed, winking at her son before hoisting the box up in her arms. She took a step backwards, preparing herself for the long journey home. “I hope you two men have a magnificent lunch! It was great to see you, Rikiga-san.”

Rikiga said his farewell to Karan through teary eyes, wanting more than anything to chase her down and confess his feelings to her once again. He decided to fight the urge, however, and just look back at her son. It had been so long since Rikiga had spent any time with Shion… and he looked so much different now. Older… more mature. It was strange to the older man, yet, in a way, heartwarming. “Alright! Follow me, Shion!”

Despite the smile that presented itself on Shion’s lips, he couldn’t help but follow after Rikiga with a heavy heart, the box full of Nezumi’s last few books weighing him down with each and every step.

 

\----------------------------

 

Instead of getting whatever  _delicacies_  could be found in West Block’s marketplace, Shion and Rikiga settled for takeout. Soba noodles were picked up with chopsticks and then dipped into a flavorful sauce before being devoured completely, a minor slurp here and there resounding from the white-haired boy as he continued to munch. 

Despite the obvious comfort Shion felt in Rikiga’s presence even after all of this time, the older man couldn’t help but stare at the albino with concern. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked away from Shion’s contented face, only to trail down and over to the box that had been left by the front door of his home.

What did those boxes contain, anyway? They had to have been important for not only Shion to return to West Block to retrieve them, but for Karan to accompany him as well. He squinted his eyes a bit as he attempted to get a better look, the noodles resting in his chopsticks growing colder by the second. 

In truth, Rikiga had a feeling that Shion’s arrival in West Block was somehow related to Nezumi… but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to believe it. Perhaps his age was to blame, or the fact that he didn’t have any children of his own… but ever since meeting Shion over three years ago, there was always this underlying need to protect him from all harm. Maybe he felt he owed it to Karan, or maybe he saw bits and pieces of himself in Shion… but whatever it was, Rikiga could not bring himself to cope with what those boxes represented, and that innocent face that continued to mask so much despair. 

It had been three years since Nezumi walked away, disappearing off into the horizon with what seemed like no intention of ever coming back. And despite Shion believing with all of his heart that Nezumi would return according to  _some promise_ , Rikiga wasn’t that optimistic. 

Breaking away from his thoughts, Rikiga’s fists clenched around his white chopsticks and his eyes drifted back over to Shion.

“Shion, I forgot to ask you before, but… why are you here?”

“Hmm?” Shion said after swallowing bits of noodle, his eyes bright and filled with uncertainty. “Because you invited me here for lunch…?”

“No, no… I mean, why are you in West Block?”

“Oh... well, I had to pick up a few things.”

“A few things? For what, the Reconstruction Committee?”

“…Um, No…” Shion didn’t really like where this was going. His eyes dropped down to his food, chopsticks fiddling around with a lone soba noodle. “…Just… personal things, I guess. From the underground home.”

Rikiga’s face grew entirely too serious in a matter of seconds. “Shion…” Rikiga began, trying desperately to keep himself calm and composed despite his obvious frustration. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’ve come back before to gather  _his_  things, right? What makes you think Eve’s going to come back?”

Shion bit the inside of his cheek before speaking. He then placed his eating utensils down onto the plate, and looked at Rikiga through determined eyes. “Because he promised. And Nezumi wouldn’t break a promise.”

“Ahhhh, Shion,” Rikiga said through a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck as he suddenly broke eye contact. He could still feel Shion’s intense stare, although he wasn’t very threatened by it. 

“I don’t think he’s coming back. It’s been three years, Shion… he hasn’t written, or tried to get in touch with anyone here, including you. I just…—” how the hell was he supposed to say this without making the poor boy cry? Was it better to be this brutally honest with Shion if it meant he would move on with his life that much sooner? What if Shion waited his entire life for a call, or for a letter that never arrived? How could Rikiga, who only wished Shion all of the happiness in the world, live on knowing that he didn’t even bother trying to get through to Shion? 

“…I just don’t think Eve has any intention of coming back, and why should he? From everything that’s happened here, where would he even go? His home is ruined; West Block is a horrible excuse for a city and has only gotten worse through the years. The fact that he’s been gone so long just shows that he’s probably found someplace better, at least in his own stubborn opinion.”

Rikiga removed the napkin that had been strewn across his lap, and placed it carefully on the table. He could  _feel_  the trembling boy in front of him trying desperately to hold himself together, which just made this even harder. His voice lowered, and he wrung his hands together. Shion would understand, right? That Rikiga only wanted the best for him? 

“I just… think it’s time to move on, Shion. I know you care about him, but—“

“He’s going to come back, Rikiga,” Shion spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. “And even if he doesn’t, it’s not like I can just…let him go. You can’t… you can’t just expect me to forget—“

“Of course not!” Rikiga interjected, his eyes finally lifting to meet Shion’s crimson stare. He could see those huge, precious eyes becoming more and more glassy, and his heart ached for him. “But you’re miserable, Shion. I haven’t seen you in months, and I can tell just by _looking_  at you. You’re going through the motions, and throwing yourself into your work… and at the rate you’re going, you’re going to collapse from a heart attack at age 20! Eve wouldn’t want you to waste your time on him; you know that just as well as I do.” Rikiga took a breath, and studied Shion carefully. “…You wouldn’t be letting him down by living out your life, Shion.”

Shion didn’t know what to say to that. After all, what  _could_  he say? Did Rikiga honestly think that Shion never stopped to consider the fact that Nezumi wouldn’t return? He had spent so many nights a complete and utter wreck, sobbing into his pillow… he had analyzed every single syllable of that promise, that  _oath_ … but to even consider the idea that Nezumi wouldn’t return, it filled him with such excruciating heartache.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Rikiga,” Shion replied quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But I can’t give up on him. I  _won’t_  give up on him.”

_‘Not when just the thought of seeing you again is the only thing that’s keeping me going.’_

_  
_

\----------------------------

 

There wasn’t anything particularly special about No. 3. The skies were just as blue as they were in No. 5 and No. 2, and the people were just as lost in their own little lives as they were any place else. Although, as Nezumi stopped to consider the places he had been in the last three years, he had to admit that he liked this one the least. Why? He honestly wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was because of the way his boss seemed to hate his life, in turn making Nezumi’s own life miserable. Or maybe it was the lack of decent food… or, rather, food to his liking. But, at the same time, it didn’t take much to appease Nezumi, especially after spending so much of his life taking whatever he could possibly scrounge up or find or afford (which was more along the lines of half moldy bread) when he lived in West Block. But there was something… _foul_  about No. 3. Nezumi just couldn’t quite place what it was that was making him hate it so much.

It wasn’t the smell… after all, how could a rat possibly call itself a rat if it couldn’t adapt to the sewers, or any environment it chose to situate itself in? To be a rat was to survive, by any means necessary. Could it be the lack of music or theater? Maybe that was it; the arts did not have a strong presence there. Politics had much more of a calling in No. 3 than anything else, and Nezumi tried to steer clear of anything regarding bickering old men who spent too much time complaining. He had seen enough of that in No. 6, not to mention the fact that he had already served his time fighting the system. He had played his part in the destruction of one of the biggest city-states in the world, and he had no intention of getting involved in another messy situation.

The raven-haired man continued to contemplate the reasons for the hostile emotions that had been jostling his nerves, all the while leaning over the counter with his chin resting gracefully in the palm of his hand. His bony elbow dug into the soft wood of the countertop as he waited for someone to come over and check out a book, or to pay an obnoxious late fee.

“Nezumi, quit loafing around. Don’t you have a job to do? Or did I hire you for absolutely no reason?” Hideki, his young boss grumbled bitterly before disappearing into his office. Nezumi rolled his eyes and, instead of tossing an insult in the general direction of the man slamming the door behind him, he bit his tongue. There was no point in fighting him, especially since Nezumi was in dire need of money. He had only been in No. 3 for a few weeks, and as the winter months began to settle in, the cold began to seep through his leather jacket and chill him to the bone.

And, sadly, warm articles of clothing as well as heavy blankets were rather expensive in No. 3, or anywhere for that matter. And he could barely afford new  _gloves_  with the amount of rent he needed to pay at the end of every month.

However, despite the desperate situation Nezumi was in when it came down to money, what  _really_  irritated him about his boss was the way he was so careless with the books that stocked the shelves of the small library. It was made clear to Nezumi that Hideki only ran the library because his father had unexpectedly passed away, leaving his first-born son to deal with his problems. And, what was even more obvious was the fact that Hideki held absolutely no regard or respect for the marvels of the written word.  

And watching another individual handle something that he personally loved with such a disdain was enough to  _really_  piss Nezumi off.

Regardless of Nezumi’s inner turmoil when it came to his job, he continued to show up day after day, unloading trucks of donated books from local universities into that small little library. However… it would only be a matter of days before his entire universe was flipped upside down.

 

\----------------------------

 

Upon the offer of getting paid to work overtime in exchange for unloading an unexpected delivery of books, Nezumi gladly accepted and stayed even after his 10-hour shift had ended. It was a little bit past midnight, but Nezumi was only concentrating on the extra blanket he would finally be able to afford. He had jumped up into the back of the truck after unlatching the door, and his strong arms were already hoisting box upon box of books down onto the grounds behind the library.

And all would’ve been fine if his boss hasn’t come out, offering his help. Nezumi’s eyes narrowed as the slender man slipped out the back door, making sure to put the little block of wood underneath the bottom in order to keep the door propped open.

“I’ve got this,” Nezumi called out as he jumped back up into the truck. “You hired me for a reason,  _right~_? So let me take care of it.”

“Nonsense, I’d like to go home before sunrise. You’ll need an extra set of hands if I want that to happen,” Hideki replied as he began to open up the boxes. Literature that was deemed too old and worn down from the nearest university had been donated to the library, and if Hideki wanted these books to be signed out and borrowed by other people tomorrow, then they had hours of unpacking and cataloging cut out for them. And that thought alone was enough to make Hideki feel bitter.

Nezumi rubbed his face in annoyance and tightened his cloak around his neck, avoiding the wind chill that plunged the temperature down below freezing. And suddenly, that aggravated feeling presented itself again, that feeling he just couldn’t explain. It came back so swiftly, making him grit his teeth. Why was he acting like this?  _‘Why the hell am I so miserable here?’_  he asked himself as he gently lowered another box onto the ground from the truck.

His attention was then directed to the man ‘helping’ by the back door. In an attempt to save some time, Hideki was sorting out the books, and discarding whichever ones he deemed unworthy of being in his library. The rejected books were then tossed roughly to the ground, thousands of pages of the literature Nezumi cherished being ripped from their bindings, only to be swept away by the wind. 

It was only then that he saw a particular set of golden letters flash in his silver eyes, revealing themselves in a string of words that had wrapped around Nezumi’s heart in a way that he had avoided with every fiber of his being. Those letters came crashing down onto the cold, snow-covered pavement, along with the rest of the precious novel.

Nezumi was not the biggest fan of The Happy Prince, but as he watched the hardcover snap off and fall face down into the snow, it felt as though all of the patience he had shown his boss and the city of No. 3 snapped along with it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nezumi shot at his boss as he jumped down from the truck and walked over to the discarded pile. Hideki glared, stopping what he was doing in order to thrust all of his attention to the unruly raven-haired man.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“The asshole that’s throwing books around, that’s who,” Nezumi replied as he crouched down to get a better look at the broken book. The Happy Prince, written by Oscar Wilde. 48 pages. A story he was not all too fond of, one that reminded him of No. 6. One that reminded him of…

 _Oh. So, that was it._  

“You’re treading thin ice, kid. Your little comments are getting on my nerves!”

Nezumi picked up the cover of the book, fingers running over the smooth letters of the title. His hand grasped the spine as he attempted to hold it together the best that he could. The Happy Prince. 48 pages. A story that reminded him…

That reminded him of Shion.

 _"I haven’t made you very happy, my prince, have I?"_  Nezumi murmured as he stared down at the book. He continued to ignore Hideki’s backhanded comments… instead, the world became…  _silent,_  for once. And Nezumi finally understood.

All of this aggravation, all of this anger… it was all because he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit it to himself. Not until this very moment, with his knees pushing into the cold wet snow, with his hands gripping a book that Shion’s mother had read to him as a child.

Three years. It took him  _three years_  to come to this startling, earth shattering realization. And, just like that, he forgot about the extra blanket he required in order to get himself through the cold winter nights. He forgot about the snow that was seeping into his kneecaps as he got up and walked away from his boss, from his job, from everything he hated in No. 3.

And as he continued to walk back to his apartment, with his head spinning and determination filling up his heart… he knew what he had to do.

It was time for him to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, sorry this chapter took so long to post!! I really enjoyed writing this one, and hope you guys like how this story is progressing! Please review and let me know what you think? :3

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Dedicated to Elanra, my amazing RP partner Eszti, and Steel-Chocolate's beautiful artwork. In no way, shape or form does No.6 belong to me. This is just the beginning of a long journey for both Shion and Nezumi, so I hope you'll stay tuned!!


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